My dear friend Molly and her rapscallion love Frederick have some really nifty videos online — of them and the fire-dancing troupe(s) Fred founded. All kinds of fiery goodness!
2007 is going to be a banner year for weddings! On June 23rd, I’ll be officiating at Fred & Molly’s wedding! Yay, I utterly adore it when I can marry off such wonderful friends!!! This will be the ninth ceremony at which I’ve officiated, and the fourth which will also be a legal marriage — although three of the other six handfasting rituals I’ve done were of a couple who were also legally married (just not by me).
And now for something completely TMI…
My eldest demonspawn got herself a baby bearded dragon lizard today. The two younger cats are utterly entranced:
The newest reptile of the house is cute as hell, and maybe all of 2 inches long (not counting the equally-long tail). Angst has named it Peyo (pronounced “pay-oh”). The cats consider it the best entertainment ever…stupid cats. (Not like I spent a considerable amount of time cooing over it, or anything.)
I woke up with a migraine. Lyse texted me to say hi, and I asked her in my reply, “Why does life hate me?” She answered, “It’s jealous of how cool you are.” At least it made me smile, which is all I can ask for.
Then Mother Nature decided to rain on my parade also, as Aunt Flo decided to show up unexpectedly, about 30 hours before my hot date. Life hates me extra-lots.
I’m going to go sulk now.
To those of you who were on that one street near the Rose Quarter, the one between the Steel Bridge and MLK Jr Blvd, on Thursday afternoon:
I apologize for the unexpected adrenaline rush that you may have experienced due to the excitement of my nearly colliding into at least two vehicles. I truly regret the intense alarm it may have caused you (as well as any temporary hearing loss due to my 18-year-old daughter in the passenger seat, shrieking at top volume).
It was thoroughly and entirely my fault, as I neglected to remember that — despite the fact that we live in the Pacific Northwest, where it rains steadily for 7 months of the year — most Portland drivers are apparently unfamiliar with driving in wind and rain, and therefore are hopelessly confused and easily startled when they must do so. Due to this lack on my part, when I attempted to change lanes in a safe manner at a reasonable speed after activating my turn signal, both the drivers of the vehicles ahead of me (in the lane I was changing from, as well as the lane I was changing to) slammed on their brakes in what seemed to be abject panic at realizing it was raining and that they were driving in it.
There was simply no other possible reason for them to have braked so suddenly — the traffic was clear, the traffic signal ahead was green, there were no emergency vehicles or sirens in sight or hearing distance, and there were (quite unusually so, I might add) no pedestrians in imminent danger. No, just a terrible confluence of rain and typical Portland drivers. I completely understand how this was my fault.
I imagine it’s a good thing that, when I was 21, I spent over a year learning the fine points of defensive driving on the mean streets of Albuquerque — filled with people who have only recently arrived in the US (and speak little or no English, which I imagine makes it somewhat difficult to read street & traffic signs) and who do not apparently realize that driving is a privilege, not a right, that there are such things as “traffic laws,” and that you must obey traffic signals and speed limits. (Lest anyone think I am disparaging a specific ethnicity, I’d like to point out that I am an equal-opportunity misanthropist.)
Again, I apologize for the startlement. Asshats.
The kitties got gushyfood today. It was A Momentous Occasion (since I haven’t bought gushyfood in well over a year). But the [insert winter holiday here] spirit came over me as I was at the grocery store, or maybe it was the 10-for-$3.50 sale, and so I grabbed 10 cans. One in each flavor.
The adult cats, of course, acted as though they were simply entitled to the delicious treat, reminding me that cats are basically furry toddlers who don’t say “no” or fingerpaint on the walls, but who are — just like small children — occasionally precious but usually self-centered and incorrigible little brats.
Michiko (who was getting gushyfood for the very first time!) treated me like a goddess for several hours afterward. Until I held her down and clipped her claws, anyway. The adult kitties don’t fight nearly as much when it’s claw-trimming time — they’ve already learned that putting up a fight is a losing proposition, as I have 3 advantages over them: I’m bigger, I’m more stubborn, and I have thumbs.
Speaking of thumbs, here’s one of my favorite cat haiku:
Cats meow out of angst,
“Thumbs! If only we had thumbs!
We could break so much!”
Oh, and a quote about cats that I heard on a TV show that the demonspawn was watching the other day. It reminded me that Geoffrey is the only thing keeping me from owning 17 of the little psychotic furballs: “He’s a cat; you don’t train cats! You just live with them in case you never get married.”
This comic is so me and Geoffrey.
I think I sprained a rib laughing.
(The really funny thing is that I often warm my cold hands on him, and he’s the sort of sicko who likes it.)
This morning, I cooked a real breakfast — fried eggs, sausage, & hashbrowns — at 7:30 am. (This caused my offspring to stare at me in astonishment for a solid 2 minutes, occasionally uttering, “You’re cooking? In the morning?”)
After cooking the sausages, I used a paper towel to wipe out the non-stick pan before cooking the hashbrowns, and then tossed the paper towel into the trash. This evening, I found the paper towel on the dining room carpet, shredded.
Note to kitties: 1) We do NOT get into the trash can! EVER. Michiko, I’m talking to you, because neither of the grown-up cats have ever done this in their lives before this week, whereas I’m constantly chasing you away from the trash can. Therefore I’m rather certain that your bad example is why I caught Hasani yesterday standing on his hind legs with his front paws on the edge of the trash can, sniffing at said trash.
2) We do NOT eat paper! I don’t care how good it smells. We especially do not eat paper that came from the trash can.
3) Not only will Momma be angry if you get into the trash can again, but Santa will not bring you any gushyfood for Yule!
Having gotten absolutely nothing accomplished around the house on Saturday, I threw myself into a whirlwind of activity on Sunday. I hauled the broken washing machine out of the downstairs bathroom (with Geoffrey’s help) and finished scrubbing the floor, then returned the dryer to its proper place. That bathroom sure looks roomy with one less laundry machine in there. Then I tackled the kitchen, getting it spotless as well. I was trying to simultaneously keep myself awake, in my seemingly never-ending quest to re-set my sleep schedule back to something approaching normal, and work out the awful muscle aches which have plagued me for days now.
Then I made a terrible mistake — after a few hours of expending physical effort, I sat down to crochet. Within an hour, I was nodding off…way too early in the evening. I only slept for 3 hours, after being awake for 24, but (once again) this meant that I wasn’t tired at what normal people consider bedtime. I even tried taking an OTC sleeping pill, which did absolutely nothing to me except clear up my sniffles — which I thought was odd, so I looked at the label. Gee, it turns out that OTC sleeping pills are nothing but antihistimines! And I’m one of the “lucky” few who don’t get at all drowsy from taking antihistimines.
At least my untimely nap provided some amusing pics. When I started dozing off, I was working on crocheting my afghan, so I just tucked the crochet hook into my yarn basket and curled up under the afghan on the sofa. The cats decided this was my way of providing them with a warm mattress, as the pics below will attest. (And the pics also show me with zero makeup and my natural hair color, which — for me — is most uncharacteristically lacking in vanity. Alors!)
Sometimes I think my life must be fairly boring…and then I have a night like Friday which makes me wish I hadn’t thought that.
It began well enough — dropping my beloved Geoffrey off at work so I could have the car for the evening. Then I dashed home to pick up the demonspawn for their Panic! At The Disco concert. Getting to the Memorial Coliseum was only slightly problematic (apparently everyone goes fraking insane on event nights, which makes traffic at the convoluted Rose Quarter complex at least six times as screwed up as normal), but figuring out where to drop them was even more fun. I was hoping to get within sight distance of the coliseum, but finally had to give up and drop them at a random intersection. At that point, I was headed to pick up my Number One Internet Fanboy for our planned date — but I got confused at an intersection and wound up on I-5 headed south. Whee. The first available exit took me at least 2 miles south of where I wanted to be, which was all of 4 or 5 blocks from where I’d dropped off the girls. *rolls eyes* After finally retrieving Karel, we went to dinner. The place was busy but the food was yummy, the company was wonderful, and things went generally quite well, thank heavens. (Probably dinner was the least-problematic part of the night…)
The kids, meanwhile, had a blast at their concert. Piccies are here, here, and here.
And now for something completely TMI…
It’s officially December, which means two things: no more NaNoWriMo (I’m kinda sad to see it go, really), and the birthday of the Imperial Princess of Cute — happy birthday, Mari!!!
Other than that, I hate December. The “holiday season” (and its attendant conspicuous consumerism) does not inspire within me thoughts of peace on Earth & goodwill toward mankind, but rather extremely gory & violent homicidal fantasies. The weather is crappy and the traffic is ugly, which encourages one to stay indoors, but then again…the weather is crappy and the traffic is ugly, so any day you have to leave your domicile is pretty much a bad day!
The demonspawn are going to the Panic! At The Disco concert tonight, so I get to be the Mom Taxi…whee, or something. At least they provide me with a steady source of entertainment — although I absolutely cannot understand why an 18-year-old feels the need to confirm that she can still fit inside the dryer.
Oh, that’s right, I remember now — it’s just another example of what I’ve been saying for years now, that “eighteenandstupid” is one word!
